After the Bullet
by moms5thchild
Summary: This is where the whole Ironside story begins.
1. Chapter 1

A little fic for a show that went off the air over thirty years ago, but it was fun while it lasted. I want to thank Alice for being my beta.

Bluesy, this is for you.

**After the Bullet**

Chapter One

June, 1967

Commissioner Dennis Randall sipped his bourbon from a paper cup. He used to have four heavy crystal tumblers for just such occasions. Two had been stolen by person or persons unknown and one smashed by an inebriated mayoral candidate. The last glass he broke himself; thrown at the wall when he'd heard Robert T. Ironside had been shot dead. Dennis could have saved the glass; Bob Ironside was too damn tough for a single bullet to kill.

"Bessie, see you in the morning and if anyone comes looking for me tell them you don't know where the hell I am." Randall slammed the door and stalked down the hall hoping the look on his face would keep everyone away. His driver was waiting for him in the garage but the Commissioner just waved him away and took an unmarked police car.

0o0o0

"_I don't need or want a vacation."_

"_Bob, be reasonable, you haven't had a vacation in years. It's not like I'm asking you to go to Disneyland, it's just my chicken farm. It's a nice quiet place and you can relax before you explode."_

"_I will not explode." Ironside slammed his fist on the commissioner's desk._

"_I know some people would think that was an explosion. Get out, get drunk; just don't come back until your blood pressure is down. Then maybe my blood pressure will go down too." Randall stood up and leaned on his desk, "don't make me have to get the police surgeon to sign us out as incompetent and the infirm for two weeks."_

"_You wouldn't dare." Ironside leaned forward until he was a nose to nose to the only man he considered his boss._

_The Commissioner picked up the phone, "just watch me."_

_Bob Ironside tried to haggle the time down. "One week?"_

"_Two weeks, this is not a jail sentence Bob, it's a vacation. In two weeks you'll come back clearheaded, rested and ready for anything I tell you to do. Got that?"_

"_Got it."_

0o0o0

"See, I'm not feeling guilty and avoiding you, Bob." Randall whispered as if trying to convince himself as he swerved into the parking lot, yet the Commissioner hesitated before he walked into the hospital. It was late, after visiting hours, and Randall expected he'd be stopped and told to leave. Still, it had been a long drive and he wasn't going to be turned around easily."

"I've been expecting you." Randall startled and turned to find a white habited nun inspecting him and finding him wanting; very wanting. "You know Robert has been asking for you."

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Randall swallowed and pasted an insincere smile on his face.

"I'm Sister Agatha and you are Police Commissioner Dennis Randall. I'm the head of the nursing staff here at St. Mary's. Robert had very extensive surgery and we have kept him heavily sedated. You are lucky, we've been tapering his medications and he should be able to have reasonable conversations soon."

The Commissioner slowly let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Maybe this was a sign to turn around and leave.

"However, if you would care to sit with him for awhile, it would be a good thing. I am sure he has a lot to say but I doubt it will make very much sense."

"But Sister, if he isn't coherent."

"Oh, I never said he was incoherent. Robert is in the initial stage of recovery, where pain and being in a hospital are his only reality. That is when a patient needs friends the most, needs to know he hasn't been forgotten. Are you Robert's friend?"

"That's why I'm here."

"Yes, you finally showed up, follow me"

0o0o0

"Bob."

Ironside grimaced and pulled in a shuddering breath.

"Bob, I'll just sit here and wait. If you want to talk, talk. I've never been able to stop you."

"Dennis? Where in flamin' hell have you been? If this is what I get from going to your flamin' chicken farm, you can shove…"

"Well, it's nice to see some things haven't changed." Randall settled his hand on Ironside's arm, avoiding the IV in his hand. "How are you feeling, Bob?"

The Chief pulled in a shuddering breath. "It hurts getting shot. You should try it sometime."

"I'll trust you on that." The Commissioner watched Ironside pull in a few more ragged breaths, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Still haven't got the bastard who shot me yet, have you."

"No, not yet; Carl Reese and Ed Brown have been assisting the Sonoma County Sheriff's department with the investigation. It was a sniper, Bob; he's got at least a ten hour head start on us and the Sheriff isn't happy about us stepping all over their jurisdiction."

Ironside shifted his gaze to the ceiling; "if you haven't made any progress I'll take the case over when I get out."

"For now, just concentrate on getting better, okay. You'll be in the hospital at least another two weeks."

"Months, I'll be in this damn hospital at least another month." Ironside shifted his eyes to his friend, taking in the confusion he saw there. "You don't know, do you?"

A knock on the door interrupted the men. Sister Agatha motioned the Commissioner out the door as two orderlies came in. "Just for a few moments, sir, there is a schedule we have to keep."

"Pancake time, Dennis, come back when they're done, there's more to say." Ironside's eyes were more focused now; there was definitely something on his mind. The Commissioner nodded, not knowing what pancake time was but knowing he had to wait until it was over. The orderlies had barely left the room when Randall sidled in to find Ironside flipped over; hanging face to the floor in a sandwich like harness.

"Your shoes need shining," the rumble of Bob's voice bounced from the floor.

"Ah, what the hell," Randall groaned as he levered himself to lie on the floor so he could look his friend in the eye. "Just tell me I won't have to do this every time I come here?"

"As me no questions and I shall tell you no lies," if Bob's eyes weren't so glazed they would have twinkled. "It won't be long, just waiting for the stitches to come out and then I'll have to get back on my feet. When you sent me on that little vacation you never thought I'd be out for six weeks instead of just two. In the meantime, I'm going to want all the reports in my hands or I'll die of boredom."

"Mr. Ironside, it is time for all good little policemen to go to sleep so say good bye to your friend and take the pills I have here for you." The German nun sounded not like an angel of mercy but like a prison camp guard.

"Good bye, friend." Bob reached out and grabbed the Commissioner's shoulder, "Dennis, when you come again, bring me those files. I'll be waiting."

"I'll bring them next time." Randall levered himself up coming nose to nose with Sister Agatha. She shifted his eyes to the door, silently commanding him to wait for him. He nodded once and jammed his hat on his head. "Later, Bob."

Randall didn't have to wait long before the nun joined him.

"Don't come back."

The Commissioner was so stunned he couldn't reply.

"Chief Ironside believes he will walk out of here in a month and take up his life where he left. That is not going to happen. He was shot in the spine, severing the spinal cord and he will never walk again. If you wish speak to his surgeon I can arrange for him to be available to you, but he won't tell you anything different than I am now."

"Does he know?"

"No, the doctor will tell him when he feels the time is right." Agatha saw that Randall was about to protest, she stared him down. "For the moment, we want him to concentrate on getting well. You're a busy man, I'm sure you can find excuses not to come back before the Chief has been informed of his prognosis."

Randall rubbed the bridge of his nose, "And when will that be?"

"I'll keep you informed," she smiled and that smile softened her face. "If you want, I can call you everyday, if you like."

"Yes, I would like that very much," Randall pulled a card from his jacket pocket, "use this number and you'll get to me directly. I'll see about doing what I can through the department."

"Yes, that is what a good friend would do. Come, I'll see you to the door."

tbc

-


	2. Chapter 2

Oh my god, Thank you Lemonpig for telling me I sent the unbeta-ed chapter 2 out to the web. I thought I had erased this piece days ago but then it remained here to point out why I desperately need a beta reader. I will never post after a glass of wine again.

Also, I must bid a sad good bye to Johnny Seven, the actor who played Carl Reese on the Ironside television show. It is always strange to think of the people we see on TV and DVD are not trapped in amber and as each one moves to the next stage of existence we are left diminished in our world.

**After the Bullet  
**

_Chapter Two_**  
**

June, 1967

Ed Brown pulled into the parking lot at the station house. He'd just got back from Sonoma where he had dropped off another bottle for the Chief. It was strange seeing his boss lying so still. The major crime division of the SFPD was working overtime with the Sonoma Sheriff; trying to find just who shot Ironside.

In San Francisco the betting pools around the city were laying down their money on what would be the next step for their Chief of Detectives. Some had already lost money because the man hadn't died the night he was shot in. Others lost money because he didn't sign of himself out against medical advice yet. The fact he was in Sonoma rather is than in the San Francisco kept his condition of mystery to the rank and file members of the police department.

"Ed," Carl Reese called to Brown, "back already?"

"Not a whole lot to keep me at St. Mary's, is there? I was just an overpaid messenger boy today."

Reese fidgeted, waiting for Ed to drop some information that would give him an advantage in the latest betting pool. He kept waiting but Brown kept silent.

"Come on, Ed, how did he look? When is the Chief gonna be a back?"

Brown rolled his eyes, "do I look like his doctor? Why don't you go visit him? The Chief would love to tell you to mine your own flamin' business. Hell, I'll tell you, mind your own flamin' business!" Ed, marched past the homicide detective but called over his shoulder, "but I'd bet on the Chief. Nothing is going to keep him from finding his sniper."

0o0o0

Weeks passed and the Ironside shooting slipped in importance and got colder and colder. Everyone was waiting for the Chief to take it over himself. Until then Ed Brown was attached to homicide and that wasn't so bad. Working for Carl Reese was a picnic compared to working for Robert Ironside, but even picnics got boring after a while and Brown wanted to be working for the Chief again.

Tonight Ed Brown was so tired his butt was dragging on the ground. He didn't even get the satisfaction of slapping the cuffs on the bastard who killed his own son. Just because the boy was dating a Chinese girl didn't give his father the right to murder him. Brown ate, showered and shook the cobwebs from his head before he collapsed on his bed. It was after midnight when the telephone ruined his sleep. Ed tried to ignore it but it rang and rang and rang until he grabbed it up.

"Brown," he hoped he sounded angry enough to scare whoever was at the hell this was away.

"Of course it's you, sergeant. I'm not so damned drunk and can't dial the flamin' phone."

"Chief, what's wrong?"

"What isn't," Ironside's slurred words and pugnacious attitude put Ed on alert.

"What's happening with my case, same _lame_ excuses as always?"

"Chief, its 1:00 AM," Ed whined into the receiver.

"I can tell the flamin' time, Brown. 'm not shuch an invalid that I need someone to tell the flamin' time to me. I can ssstill tell the difference between the big hand and the little hand."

Now Ed was worried. "What's the matter Chief; anything I can do?"

"The bottle's empty… got no way to get any more in thish hick town. I'm sstuck Ed, I got myself stuck damn good thish time and there's no way out." And ragged sigh slipped out of the receiver into Ed's ear, "go to the bed sergeant, I'm sorry I woke you up."

The sound of the Chief's phone hitting the floor stole sleep from Ed completely. If he got to an all night liquor store and headed straight Sonoma Brown could be at the hospital in a little under an hour, but was it worth the effort. The Chief would probably be asleep by the time he got there. There was only one thing he could think to do right now. He shuffled through his wallet and found a piece of paper with the direct number to Sister Agatha. Brown had to let her know he was coming because he had to find out what the hell was going on with his boss.

0o0o0

"Sergeant Brown, you must have been breaking speed limits all the way from San Francisco to here."

"I'm just glad you said I could come, Sister." Ed didn't even bother trying to hide the whiskey bottle from the nun. "I just wish I knew what this was all about?"

"It's about that bottle of whiskey to start with. Please, follow me."

"I know the way sister, you can go back to bed." Ed marched to Ironside's room and pushed in.

The chief was propped up in his hospital bed, glaring at the door. "It took a long enoufff to get here."

"Takes a long time to find liquor cheap enough to show just how annoying it is to be playing gofer in the middle of the night." Ed dropped the bottle in the chief's lap, aiming right for his groin. The Chief didn't wince when it landed, he simply grabbed it and tried to twist off the cap.

"Ed," slurred speech and over precise movements showed Brown just how drunk the Chief was, "I've gotta make a plan. The flamin' doctor tol' me that I'd never walk again. That'sh crap… there is no way I am not walking out of this place." He tried the cap again, but the cast on his right hand made removal impossible. "Here, open this up and pour it neat… for both of us."

Ed bit his lower lip as he uncapped the bottle. He hoping that his boss would think he was having trouble with the whiskey and not the revelation he'd just heard. By the time Brown had poured the cheap liquor his poker face was in place.

"So, where do we begin, Chief?"

"Firsst, ignore that flamin' quack and get a secon' o-pinion... an' mebee a third and a fourth. I know… I know…" Ironside blew out a long breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I know I'm tired. Get here tomorrow affer your shift an' I'll ha' worked it out." With that the Chief's head dropped on his chest and he was asleep.

Brown took the glass from Ironside's slack hand; the damn thing crashing to the floor would wake the Chief. Then he slipped the extra pillows out from under the Boss's shoulders and cranked the hospital bed flat. Did it matter if he raised the bed rails, could the Chief roll out of bed anymore? There was too much to think about right now.

Exiting the room Ed passed the nurse's station.

"Sergeant," the night supervisor stage whispered and crooked her finger indicating for Ed to come over. "I have something for you." The nurse pushed a large leather bound book at him, smirking as Ed waited for an explanation for this. "Sister Agatha said you might want to read this. Just return it when you're finished."

Ed wondered what the old nun was up to when he picked up the medical volume and checked the spine; Introduction to Orthopedic Procedures. A holy card playing the role of a book mark was sticking out of the well thumbed pages. Brown opened the book there and saw the section title, The Spine.

"Tell Sister Agatha thanks, I'll get this back to her as soon as possible." Then he tapped the holy card and smirked. "Tell the sister I'm not Catholic, but I know all about St. Jude. I just hope this cause isn't as hopeless as it seems right now."

Ed Brown tucked the book under his arm and left for home.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

I've taken the liberty of finding a house in San Francisco that I thought would be a good place for a young couple make a start after World War 2 and gave it to the Chief. His age and his marriage are only mentioned in passing in the movie pilot for the TV show and since I have it on DVD I knew I should use the information.

Again, I thank Alice for her help. I also say hello to Rosa and Florence for their kind words and support. It means a lot to me to know people read my work. Thank you, all my readers, thank you very much.

**After the Bullet **

_Chapter Three_

August, 1967

Ed Brown and Eve Whitfield would be driving a SFPD station wagon to St. Mary's Hospital to handle everything that was going back to the city. Tomorrow was the big day; Robert Ironside was finally going home. The problem was; he wasn't sure where home was going to be.

Home had been 347 Claremont Blvd. in the West Portal district. Bought with his wife, Elaine, after his navy service but before he finished with the police academy it was where he had expected to spend the rest of his life with her there. Now, Robert Ironside was a widower with a house he couldn't use. No matter what the therapists and doctors claimed, there were just some things he could no longer do and one was navigate a house filled with stairs in a wheelchair. For all intents and purposes, Robert T. Ironside was homeless.

"Chief Ironside, I believe you are leaving us soon."

The Chief's head snapped up as the voice of Sister Agatha pulled him from his depressing thoughts.

"No doubt you'll be glad to see the last of me," he growled from the bed. "You'll have to find another sucker for your losing cribbage habit now."

"What can I say; there's nothing like a sore winner to brighten my days." The nun stepped into the room, carrying the freshly pressed suit that Ironside would wear on his journey back to the outside world. "Need I arrange for an orderly to help you get dressed when you're ready or has your therapist made sure you can manage dressing yourself?"

"I am so raring to get out of this asylum; I can hardly contain my excitement," Ironside rolled his eyes at the shrewd nun. She could read him like a book and the Chief did not like anyone who could do that to him. "What are you flamin' waiting for, an invitation to watch me strip down to my skivvies or to call the flamin' orderlies."

"Can you 'strip down to your skivvies' Chief?" Sister Agatha stood by the bed and looked into Ironside's eyes. He tried to hold her gaze as if the nun's question was inconsequential. It was when her eyes went from steely to knowing that the Chief dropped his.

Sister Agatha circled the room as she spoke to her patient. "Where is that super ego? I thought you were going to leave here and find the man who shot you?" The suit was hung in the closet and all items on the dresser rearranged before she sat down beside the Chief's bed. "I think I like your bravado better than this silence. Do I have to get the psychologist here to determine if you are truly ready to leave us?"

"No! Damn it, Sister, I've been here too long as it is. My case is cold and unless I get back and re-open it, it will stay cold."

Sister Agatha leaned forward, "and what will you do to the man who shot you? Will you shoot him, cripple him or maybe even kill him. Then what? It won't get you back on your feet. It won't make the San Francisco Police Department give you your job back. What will you do after you find your shooter?"

Ironside scrubbed his hand over his face. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

She leaned back, "don't you think you better start thinking ahead. From now on you must carefully plan what you are going to do each and every day."

"Why, I'm a short timer; I'll be lucky if I make it to fifty now."

With that Sister Agatha jumped up to her full five foot three inches in height and slapped Robert Ironside full force across the face. The Chief's jaw dropped as he rubbed his stinging cheek.

"Why did I even bother worrying about you? If all you are going to do is take up space I could have sent you to a home and arranged your funeral ahead of time. All you have to do is lay there and you'll be dead before the year is over. Just tell me, while you are wallowing how many people will die because you can't be bothered to try to live."

Ironside pounded his fists hard on his thighs. "You seem to forget I'm not a police officer any longer. I no longer meet the physical requirements for the job."

"Oh, forgive me; I forgot that to be a cop you had to have your brains sucked out of your skull." The nun began to pace the room. "What about all the young men injured as you are who came back after the war who became lawyers and architects and teachers. They used their brains and kept going AND they learned to take care of themselves and many are still alive today. Its not easy, but I did not think you were someone who took the easy way out." With that the nun headed to the door.

"Sister," the Chief called out to her. "SISTER!!" Ironside put all his fury into his voice, but the nun didn't stop as she left him alone in his room. He blew a long breath out and sank back into his bed letting his eyes travel around the room. "Sister, just what do you want me to do?"

0o0o0

The western shadows of the mountains were creeping toward St. Mary's Hospital in Sonoma. By now the patients had all been feed their dinners and visitors would soon be heading home. Sister Agatha watched as the sky slowly let each bright star break through the deepening blue. How many wishes did each little star conjure up every night. "Lord, I do not ask the stars for patience. I ask You grant me patience and forgiveness for being a quick tempered fool." With that the nun re-entered the hospital and headed to Robert Ironside's room where she slipped on her professional mask and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Ironside's voice was softer than earlier today.

"Are you tired, Mr. Ironside? I can come back later."

The Chief, now seated in one of the hospital wheelchairs, swiveled to face the door; the imprint of the Sister's hand vivid on his cheek. "Coming in for a second round? What point value do you get for a TKO here?"

"I have come to apologize to you. There's no excuse for my actions today and if you wish to prosecute me for attacking you are well within your rights."

Ironside leaned back and glared at the sister and then shook his head and smiled. "No, Sister, you're safe for now. Sometimes it takes a lot to wake me up and a right to the jaw might just be what I needed. Once. Don't do it again."

"I'll try to restrain myself in the future." She walked further into the room and sat down on the only other chair in the room. "Did you know that St. Agatha is the patron saint of nurses?"

"No, did you know that Michael the Archangel is the patron of police officers?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did." The sister leaned forward again, wanting to take her patient's hand but waiting for a sign he would not reject her move. "What about tomorrow? Have you prayed to Saint Michael and have you made any plans?"

The Chief reached over to the bedside table and pulled a sheaf of papers toward him. "As a matter of fact, I've made a few. I've put my house up for sale. I might get as much as $25,000 for it if the market is stays good. I've also called in a favour or two and I think I might have found a new place to live—if I can convince Dennis Randle to let me move in and give me the job I want."

"Good, that's a start but shouldn't you talk to the Commissioner before you arrange for this job and move?"

"Sister," he chided her, "don't you know it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. I oughtta know, I used to be an altar boy."

"God save me from nasty little altar boys." Sister Agatha smiled she rose to leave. "I will see you tomorrow morning."

"Where to you think you're going?" Ironside growled as he reached into his bathrobe pocket and extracted a well worn deck of playing cards. "This is your last chance to catch up with me."

The nun laughed as she got the cribbage board off the dresser and came back to the chair. "I don't know, Robert, but I have a feeling that when you start moving nobody is going to be able to keep up with you."

"From your lips to God's ears, Sister; now shut up and cut the cards."

The End


End file.
